


Loosestrife

by Polomonkey



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Episode: s04e10 The Herald of a New Age, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Revealed, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 11:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12432276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey
Summary: After Arthur's confession, Merlin goes back to the druid shrine.





	Loosestrife

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the fest mods for their patience with my very late entry. Despite it being one of my fave eps I found it really hard to get a handle on! I hope you like my attempt at a deleted scene. Thanks also to Clea for much needed plot help.
> 
> Also fills my hurt/comfort bingo square: survivor's guilt.

After Merlin returned to the castle – after he delivered Elyan to Gaius for one final check, though he knew the boy’s spirit was long gone, knew that he would never return; after he helped Arthur undress, his king raising his arms meekly and lifting his feet on command, as pliant and obedient as a frightened child – after all of that, he went back to the grove.

It was quiet now. Merlin could not hear the voices screaming anymore, or the faraway echoes of children crying. There was only the faint murmur of the wind in the trees, and the water trickling close by.

Merlin sat on the ground; looked up at the ribbons and flags above him.

He imagined someone tying each one, with the greatest of care, in the hopes that the spirits here would find rest. Gaius called them a warning but Merlin could only see a plea. _Disturb us no more. Let our people find peace._

Arthur, who was his destiny, had done this. Arthur, who had led his men to a sacred place and watched the slaughter of women and children. Arthur, who had been frightened and alone. Arthur, who hated magic. Arthur, who strove to be a good king and protect his citizens. Arthur, who killed Merlin’s people.

There were too many Arthur’s in Merlin’s head. Too much good and too much bad, all clamouring at once. It was like the Crystal Cave, so many visions of what would be and what might be. Was there a vision of the future where the druids had been saved? Was there one that showed Merlin saving them?

But he had not saved them, nor any like them. He had not witnessed this raid and yet he saw it all the same. It was steeped into the trees of the grove, buried deep within the soil. It was fear and anger and terrible, terrible sadness. The air was thick with it and Merlin couldn’t breathe.

 

***

 

Merlin didn’t remember the walk back to the castle. He didn’t realise where he’d ended up until he was standing in the doorway of Elyan’s chamber, hands clenched tight at his sides to stop them trembling. And the strangeness of the night was such that when Elyan rolled over in bed to look at him, clear-eyed and wide awake, he felt no surprise.

“Merlin,” Elyan said, and he didn’t sound surprised either.

Merlin walked a little way into the room and then stopped, awkward.

“Just wanted… just wanted to see you were alright.”

Elyan sat up then, face only just visible in the dim moonlight.

“I am. Are you?”

Merlin didn’t understand the question. Why wouldn’t he be alright? He’d survived yet again. The one sorcerer in the kingdom who never paid the price his kin did.

“Of course,” he said but it came out thin somehow, insubstantial. Elyan tilted his head but didn’t argue the point. He just looked at Merlin, for a long moment.

“You’re cold,” he said at last.

Merlin suddenly realised that he was – freezing in fact, down to his very bones. It was like the chill of the grove had seeped into him, settled down to stay.

“I should go to bed,” Merlin mumbled, already thinking of the threadbare blankets in his room, the fire that Gaius would have long since extinguished.

But then Elyan drew back the covers of his bed in invitation and Merlin was moving before he could stop himself, shedding his boots and jacket, wanting not to be alone more than anything in the world…

The bed was warm and Elyan was very close, one hand gently tucking the blanket round Merlin’s side. For a moment they just lay there, the strangeness of the situation somehow kept at bay by all that had happened the last few days.

“You’re shaking,” Elyan said after a minute and he didn’t ask before pulling Merlin’s back to his chest, wrapping one broad arm around him. It was so quickly done that Merlin could hardly protest, and then he didn’t want to, because it felt oddly natural. Right, somehow, though he couldn’t imagine doing this with any other knight - it’d all be a joke to Gwaine, and Leon would be mortified, and Percival would probably crush him by accident…

Merlin snorted with laughter but it came out like a sob instead. He felt Elyan’s arm tighten around him and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to fall apart.

Elyan didn’t ask what was wrong, he just waited until Merlin had calmed. His hand found Merlin’s hand and stroked it lightly, calloused fingers threading through Merlin’s own.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” he said, when Merlin’s breathing was slow again.

“You weren’t yourself,” Merlin said.

“Still.”

Silence fell again. Merlin shut his eyes, saw children screaming, crying, being cut down where they stood. He opened his eyes quickly, biting his bottom lip until the tang of blood filled his mouth.

“His name was Ewan,” Elyan said into the darkness, his voice quiet. “The boy. The one I…”

He cleared his throat.

“He told me. Told me his druid name too, and his parent’s names, and his little brother’s-”

Elyan’s voice cracked then and Merlin gripped his hand.

“He was so sad,” Elyan said, barely louder than a whisper. “He said he spent his whole life afraid. Said he always knew he was different and that meant he’d always be in danger.”

Elyan’s breath puffed at the back of Merlin’s neck.

“He reminded me of you.”

Merlin jolted then, shocked. For a second he was frozen and then he began to struggle against Elyan’s arms, fear coursing through him.

“Wait, no, I didn’t – Merlin, please-”

Elyan held him fast.

“I’ve known for months, I’m not – don’t be scared. Please. I won’t tell. I’m sorry.”

Merlin’s breath was coming in short pants, fast and shallow. One part of him was screaming _run_ and another was tired, so utterly tired of fleeing and hiding and pretending to be something he wasn’t.

He sucked in a lungful of air and let himself go limp. He felt hands on his shoulders, turning him over, and then Elyan’s worried face came into focus above him.

“I’m sorry, Merlin, I shouldn’t have just… I won’t tell anyone. After tonight, I just… I thought you might need to talk…”

Elyan was no longer touching any part of Merlin’s body, and Merlin was surprised by how much colder he felt.

“How did you know?” he asked, a strange kind of calm overtaking him.

“The bandits in Briar Wood,” Elyan said. “One had me by the throat, I couldn’t reach my sword, and then he just tripped on air. And you were by the tree and your eyes were-”

Merlin searched Elyan’s tone for traces of disgust or fear. He found none.

“You saved my life,” Elyan said, and he sounded almost in awe. “All of our lives… it’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“Not everyone’s lives,” Merlin said. “Not the druids. Not the sorcerers that Uther used to burn. Not the people that needed me to-”

He broke off, bile in his throat. Elyan studied him for a moment.

“You weren’t even in Camelot when Arthur led that raid,” he said softly.

“Not that one, no,” Merlin said bitterly. “But there’ve been others. Other women. Other children.”

Elyan placed his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, his touch feather-light.

“Don’t-” Merlin said, and he choked on a sob. “Don’t try to make me feel better.”

“I won’t,” Elyan said simply. “But do you want to talk about it?”

 

***

 

Three nights later, Merlin returned to the shrine. In his pack was a bundle of herbs and flowers from the forest that Elyan and he had picked together. In his pocket was a page torn from Gaius’ book of Druidic rites. The page was entitled ‘A Ritual to Lay the Lost to Rest’.

_Take two sheaves of asphodel_

It was long past dark when he reached the grove, slipping through the bent backed trees and listening for the sound of footsteps behind him. But none were heard and he breached the grove alone.

_Add a clutch of loosestrife_

He found a bare patch of ground in the clearing and got to his knees. He laid his hands on the inky dirt before him and then started to dig.

_Make a shallow hole within the earth_

His fingernails were black by the time he finished and the soil he had disturbed smelt faintly of smoke.

_Line the hole with meadowsweet_

He was careful not to snap a stalk or break a stem as he packed the meadowsweet in. He rested one hand atop it once he was done, feeling the flowers curl beneath his fingers.

_Lay the asphodel and loosestrife on top_

Merlin’s touch was light after years of gathering herbs for Gaius, of brewing remedies that required a gentle hand. He felt each petal as he laid it down, caressed every leaf. Tried to push his blessing into the earth along with them.

_Cover again with soil_

Merlin smoothed the ground with the flat of his hand, until he could hardly tell where the hole had been. All around him the air was still; a close and windless night.

_Ask the spirits to come here no more_

“I,” Merlin began, and here he faltered, because what could he say? What could anyone say about an act so profane that the earth itself remained unquiet?

What was there to say about the death of children that was worth saying?

“ _In sibbe gerest_ ,” he said at last, because it was not for him to tell the spirits what to do. It was for him to mourn. It was for him to make sure this never happened again.

Then he got to his feet and he left the grove; with the water trickling and the ribbons dancing and a voice on the wind whispering, _remember Emrys_.

Remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading


End file.
